


Plain Gray Walls

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: Board Games, Fic, Gen, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-17
Updated: 2010-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-13 06:23:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jones, Neal and a game of backgammon. Set during 2.01.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plain Gray Walls

**Author's Note:**

> Set during 2.01. Thanks to dragonfly for beta.

The surprise on Caffrey's face when the guard brought him into the interview room at the prison was enough to make Jones feel a twinge of guilt, but he hid it and nodded. "Hey."

"What's wrong?" Neal's gaze sharpened. "Is Peter okay?"

"Everyone's fine," said Jones. He should have come sooner.

The truth was he was so used to thinking of Caffrey's care and maintenance as Peter's domain that it honestly hadn't occurred to him to visit until he overheard Cruz and Diana talking. Cruz had been saying how different the office was without Caffrey around. "I wonder if he's up to his old tricks, running cons on people in prison," she'd said, and Diana had pulled a face—the grave kind of face people made when talking about the dark side of the prison system—and said, "I hope he isn't getting the opportunity." Jones had thought, well, he and Caffrey weren't exactly friends, but he liked the guy well enough. It wouldn't hurt to drop by and check up on him.

Neal seemed pale and subdued but otherwise okay as far as Jones could tell, and either way there wasn't much Jones could do about it. "I thought you might have time for a game of backgammon," he said.

He put his leather case on the table and opened it. It had been through the metal detectors and searched by prison security, who'd muttered about nerdy Feds. Jones had pretended not to hear.

Neal blinked at the backgammon set and sat down. "More time than you can imagine. I didn't know you played."

"Not since college," said Jones. "Peter said you were on the professional circuit in Monaco."

"A long time ago." Neal positioned his pieces with a faint smile. "Memory lane, then. Stakes?"

"IOUs for coffee." Jones mirrored him, and they started to play. Jones fully expected to get beaten, hands down. That wasn't the point. He didn't know how often Peter visited, but given how much time he was putting into the paperwork required to reinstate Neal's parole, on top of managing the unit's usual caseload, probably not that often. "You heard Diana's back?"

"I heard a rumor," said Neal, his eyes on the board.

"She said to say hi and that she's looking forward to you getting back on the team. Apparently Christy's curious to meet you."

Neal's smile turned genuine, and he rolled the dice.

Jones shook his head, hiding his own grin, and added, "I don't think she meant it as a challenge, Caffrey."

"You sound like Peter," said Neal. "How's he doing?" The question sounded casual enough, but with Caffrey you could never be sure.

"He's okay. Working hard. You know how he gets. We've been chasing this guy, running a pension scam, for coming up on three weeks." Jones shrugged. He didn't say they would've cracked it by now if Neal had been onboard, because that was disloyal. Peter was still the best, and the rest of the team were no slouches, Jones himself included. But there was no denying that arrests seemed to come together like magic with Caffrey in the mix.

Jones also didn't mention Peter glancing across to Neal's desk just that morning like he was about to call him over, nor the frown that had gathered on his face when he'd remembered Neal was gone. That was between the two of them. Jones stuck to the facts. "We'll catch the guy."

"I know you will," said Neal. He already had a clear lead in the game, though his heart didn't seem to be in it. "Did he send you?"

"Who, Peter?" Jones took his turn. "Nope." They played in silence for a few minutes. He and Neal had never had that much in common, and Neal wasn't exactly his usual chatty self. Jones cast around for something more to say. "Cruz is talking about transferring to the Dallas office. She met a guy—you remember Agent Landry from the boiler-room case?"

"Landry, really?" Neal raised his eyebrows. "I didn't figure Lauren for the type to follow her man."

"She kept saying it was for the climate, claimed she was tired of New York," said Jones. "But then he sent her this big flower arrangement at the office and her secret came out. It's not finalized yet, but it's in the cards. She sends her best too, by the way." He looked at the board. "Ouch."

Neal gave a tiny shrug, gathered the dice and handed them to Jones. "The world keeps turning."

Jones hesitated and then made himself say what he'd come to say. "I'm sorry for your loss. We all are."

For a split second, Neal froze, even stopped breathing. Then he sat up straighter, pulling away an inch or two in the process, and took a breath. When he spoke, his voice was flat but steady. "Thanks."

He shook the cup and let the dice spill onto the board.

Jones concentrated on the game to give Neal a chance to collect himself. Several turns passed, and Neal bore half a dozen pieces off the board. Jones rallied, but it was too little too late.

Neal cleared his throat and said, "Tell me more about the pension scam."

So Jones filled him in, answering all his questions, knowing as he did so that next time Peter visited the prison, Neal would deliver some brilliant insight into the case, out of the blue, leaving Peter baffled as to how he'd come by the information. Given the circumstances, Jones couldn't begrudge Neal that.

Neal finished the game with a flourish, not long after, and together they packed away the set.

"Good game," said Neal.

"You don't have to sugarcoat it," Jones told him. "I know I sucked. I'll get you next time, though."

"Next time." Neal folded his hands on the table and met Jones' eye. "You're on."

"Okay, well—" Jones stood up. "I should get going." He gave Neal a nod, hiding his sympathy as well as he could, and left.

Five minutes later he was accelerating out of the prison parking lot, reveling in the complexity of the city, the endless, pale blue sky. Feeling bad that Neal was stuck inside those plain gray walls. It was too bad, a guy like that. Jones gunned the engine a little and made a mental note for when he got back to the office, to ask Peter if there was anything he could do to help with the parole paperwork. Probably Peter would have said if there was, but it wouldn't hurt to ask. And after all, Jones owed Neal a cup of coffee from the backgammon stakes, and he liked to settle his debts as quickly as he could.


End file.
